Page 8 of Tamed By a Duke
Hugh glanced across the crowded dining room of White's at the two lords his cousin had just mentioned. Both young men were braying with laughter—in a manner that put one to mind of horses—and drinking deeply from their wine glasses.
"I wouldn't pay any mind to what those unlicked cubs have to say," Hugh said, dismissively.
"And I have been called worse," Montague added cheerfully, "In fact, just last night my beloved Rosaline called me an addle pate and declared that she could never love a puff guts such as I."
"Really?"
"Really," Montague smiled proudly, "And that is just what she has said to my face; heaven knows what she calls me when my back is turned."
Hugh gave a bark of laughter at his friend's pragmatic assessment of Rosaline Bower's feelings for him. The beautiful courtesan, who was under the care of the elderly, but extremely wealthy, Earl of Snowdon, had been repelling Montague's overtures for nearly a month now. Her scornful replies to his suit seemed only to spur Montague on to ever greater declarations of love, though Hugh did not worry for his friend's feelings. Montague was merely bored and seeking to entertain himself, as far as Hugh could see.
"I don't care what others think of me," Dubarry said, as the footman set down a fourth glass of brandy for the new arrival, "Even I know that I can be somewhat clumsy—the only thing I worry about is that my reputation might damage my chances with—"
Dubarry halted his speech and nervously took a large sip of his brandy, though evidentially he took too much, for he coughed and spluttered for a full minute before Hugh could question him further.
"Your chances with who?" he asked. He had not thought that his young cousin held any interest in marrying, consumed as he was by his love of music.
"You will think me foolish," Dubarry cast a glum figure, "For she is already the object of many men's attention, even though she is not yet out. A man of my standing has no hope of securing her hand."
"Lud, man," Orsino grumbled, impatient as ever, "Don't make us guess her name, spit it out."
"Miss Bianca Drew," Dubarry offered, as his cheeks stained pink.
"Never heard of her," Orsino shrugged, "You may strike me from your list of competitors."
"Nor I," Hugh added, as he wracked his brains to try and recall if he had ever heard mention of the girl.
"I have," Montague added, though seeing the startled look on Dubarry's face, he quickly clarified matters, "Her name was on one of the lists my father made up for me."
"Is he drawing up lists of marriageable chits now?" Orsino queried, drawing two dark eyebrows together in amusement.
"He's been writing them for years," Montague replied, ever cheerful, "One would think he'd have given up by now. They come in useful for kindling if nothing else."
"You see," Hugh interrupted his friends, who were inclined toward lengthy tangents if left unchecked. "There is not a queue of men waiting to claim this Miss Drew's hand. You have every chance with her."
"Lord Horace and Lord Lucas are quite determined to pursue her once she's out," Dubarry said mournfully, "Though, perhaps, she might never be presented at court. She told me just today that her father has stipulated that she cannot make her come out unless her elder sister proves herself capable of securing a husband."
"How do you know this?" Hugh raised an eyebrow.
"I have been giving Miss Bianca lessons on the pianoforte," Dubarry mumbled, tugging at the collar of his shirt, as though it were too tight.
Lessons? Hugh frowned; his cousin, though the younger son, was not so hard up for money that he needed to supplement his income with music lessons. There was more to Dubarry's tale than met the eye.
"You must be quite the teacher, to have inspired such confidence from your pupil," Hugh drawled, and again Dubarry flushed.
"Well..." he mumbled, slightly shamefaced, "Perhaps our relationship is stronger than that of master and student."
"Lud. I hope you haven't been taking liberties with the girl," Hugh groused, though he did not honestly think his soft-hearted cousin had anything of the rake about him.
"Liberties?" Dubarry was suitably scandalised at the very idea, "I would not dream of taking liberties with Miss Bianca, or any woman for that matter. Please drag your thoughts from the gutter, dear cousin, what I feel for Bianca is something beautiful. One might even call it sacred."
Dubarry paused as Montague hastily tried to disguise a snort of laughter as a cough. Even sombre Orsino appeared to be struggling to conceal his amusement at Dubarry's declaration that his love transcended any base urges.
"Does Miss Bianca feel the same?" Hugh queried, rubbing a hand against his chin, where he could feel the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow sprouting.
"I think," Dubarry looked hopeful, "That she does. We are quite stricken, though, for our love has no chance of progressing if her sister does not prove herself capable of securing a husband. Their father has declared that if the elder Miss Drew fails to attract the attention of any ranking lower than a duke, that Miss Bianca will not be allowed make her come out."
Suspicion niggled at Hugh, as his cousin finished speaking, his blue eyes gazing mournfully around the table at the trio.
